Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc etc. No money being made, no offence intended.
Author's Note: Between looking after puppies (who while very cute, are none the less little buggers), applying to Uni, and baking birthday cakes, I haven't written nearly as much as i'd have liked.
Don't you hate it when the real world intrudes on important things?
I also haven't had a chance to get this to my beta, so apologies if there are any mistakes. But I said i'd get something up over the weekend and I didn't want to slip back into being a terrible liar about updates :)
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Vernon Dursley had, had an excellent day. Not only had the order he'd been hoping to make gone through, he had gotten to yell at no less than six people. Traffic had been good on his drive home and the roast lamb Petunia had cooked for dinner had been better than usual. Overall an excellent day.
As he sat in front of the TV with Petunia, a glass of brandy in his hand, Vernon felt a thoroughly satisfied with the world.
And then, the door-bell rang.
"Who on Earth?" Vernon grumbled, pulling his heavy frame out of his comfy chair.
"Really, calling on people at this time of night(!)" Petunia complained through pursed lips, standing to peer down the hall as Vernon went to the door.
Wrenching open the door, preparing to shout at person number seven, Vernon Dursley froze and stared at the well dressed stranger.
The striking man standing on the front step was very tall and very pale, with short, neatly trimmed blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He wore an expensive looking black suit, a stiff white dress shirt and a thin tie of lavender silk. Parked on the street outside the house, Vernon could see large, old, silver Bentley. In the gleam of the street-lights, he spotted what could only be a chauffeur sitting in the front of the car - he was even wearing a hat, although Vernon couldn't make out his features under it.
Vernon Dursley might not have respected much, but money – money was something he had a lot of respect for. And whoever this caller was, obviously had plenty of it.
"Good evening. I'm terribly sorry for calling on you so late – I'm afraid it would have been quite impossible for me to be here earlier." the stranger said extending his hand.
Gripping the long elegant hand in his own pudgy one, Vernon gave it a shake.
"Um, not at all, not at all. What can I do for you?" Vernon replied, greasily.
"I have a matter to discuss with your good self and your lady wife. May I come in?" the man said smoothly, a flicker of strange light playing in his eyes.
"Yes. Please, I invite you in." Vernon said distantly – the words coming unbidden to his lips.
"Thank you." the man replied, stepping around Vernon's bulk.
Once in, he walked straight towards the living room – making Petunia shoot back into the room quickly, where she tried to look like she hadn't been watching.
After a slightly confused Vernon had joined them, the stranger sat, uninvited, in the arm chair.
"Please, do be seated." the man offered.
Bristling slightly, but still unwilling to offend their strange, wealthy, guest – the Dursley's sat on sofa.
"I think introductions are in order – I am Lord Felldane."
Petunia and Vernon glanced quickly at one another - a Lord no less. They still had no idea what was going on of course, but the man seemed thoroughly respectable.
"Vernon Dursley, and this is my wife, Petunia." Vernon said, as Petunia smiled a horsey smile. "So, er, what can I do for you Lord, Felldane was it?"
"I'm here about Harry." the man said, crossing his legs and smiling at them.
Both the Dursleys froze. They must have misheard.
"Harry? You're here about... Harry?" Vernon asked, as Petunia clutched his fore arm in a death grip with her bony hand.
"Yes." their guest said simply, and as he spoke – he began to change.
The Dursley's watched in horror as the pale skin began to turn whiter still, the neat hair lengthened to cascade down his back, and the blue of the eyes lightened and changed to an intense violet. Most disturbing of all, two long fangs grew down from his bright smile.
"Ahhhhh, that's soooooo much better." Innadrue said with relish, stretching languidly.
After a moment of shocked silence, Vernon shot to his feet.
"Out! OUT! OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he bellowed, moving to haul the Innadrue to his feet.
"Sit down." Innadrue snapped, voice like the crack of a whip, and eyes glowing.
Vernon's muscles obeyed before his mind had even processed the order, and he sat back down heavily.
"Do not irritate me, mortals. As things stand, I'm not very keen on you – and I would need very little prompting to do something very unpleasant." Innadrue went on in a cold, deadly voice. "Now, I need you to sign a permission slip allowing Harry to attend an affair I'm planning. Unfortunately, I've been forbidden to tamper with any minds to compel permission – or to threaten anyone into it."
"Well, you did just threaten us!" Vernon argued defiantly.
"I threatened harm if you irritate me. It was quite unconnected to the matter at hand."
"So... if we say no you can't do anything to us?" Vernon asked, eyes gleaming maliciously as his fear began to recede.
"I can only ask again... perhaps at your office, or perhaps when you are out at the shops." Innadrue replied, nodding at Petunia - who gasped. "Of course, if you force me have to make the journey here again, I doubt I would bother to make the effort to look so respectable in front of your friends and neighbours... I'm normally more of a tight fitting leather kind of guy." Innadrue continued airily.
As disturbing as the fangs had been; this was worse.
"And if we sign this, this permission slip?" Petunia asked, making 'permission slip' sound like something dirty.
"Then I shall leave you in peace." Innadrue answered pleasantly, retrieving a sheet of paper and an expensive looking pen from his jacket, and placing them on the coffee table.
Sharing a long look with his wife, Vernon picked up the pen and signed without reading the letter.
"Both of you, if you please." Innadrue told them, as Vernon tried to hand the paper back.
With a scowl Vernon handed it to Petunia, who signed beneath her husband.
Retrieving the paper, folding it and putting it back into his jacket – Innadrue stood.
"My thanks, I'll show myself out." Innadrue said promptly, walking to the door. Hesitating a moment, he spoke again. "Oh, and again quite unconnected to this matter... should Harry return to this, your home, at any point in the future – you will treat him with the utmost respect. I have no doubt he has little or no interest in your affections, but you will be polite, and do your very best to not to make his time with you any more unpleasant than it has to be." He fixed them with a fierce glare, eyes glowing brightly. "If I find out you have behaved otherwise... I will return, and kill you both... slowly."
With that he was gone, leaving the Dursleys silent and shaking.
Had they been looking out their window, they would have seen the Bentley shimmer into a large, horse-drawn, black carriage – and then suddenly – vanish from sight.
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It was Friday, and Harry had been having a terrible week. After seeing Innadrue on the Monday night, Harry had been distracted all of Tuesday – and repeatedly been told off in classes for it. Wednesday morning had been just as bad, as he had waited for his chance to see Innadrue in DADA.
That had turned out to be a disappointment. Innadrue had taught quite seriously, and when he had seen the eager look on Harry's face, all he had said into his head had been:
"Patience, Harry. Patience."
When Innadrue had announced the party there had been great excitement in the class, although many faces had looked doubtful about the prospect of getting an OK to attend a vampire's party from their parents.
"Why do we need our parents permission?! We never needed for the Yule Ball!" Ron had complained.
"No, you did not. But my parties tend to be of a rather more... adult nature. And as you are not yet of age, Dumbledore insists on permission being given." Innadrue has explained. "So I'd get writing to your parents – you really won't want to miss it. I've even hired a Maenad to plan the whole thing, and of course, provide the refreshments. They may be crazy – but by the gods, they can throw a wild party."
After this, the entire class was determined to get permission.
Harry, who had already known about the party, tried to look excited but found it hard through his disappointment.
Innadrue's lack of attention had put Harry in a foul mood for the rest of the day, and he had been snappish and short with all of his friends Eventually, he and Ron had a silly argument over nothing and both gone to bed angry.
On the Thursday morning, Harry had apologised to Ron and it had been forgotten, but it all left Harry miserable – and worried that Innadrue was just playing games with him.
That night, deciding to get some answers, Harry had tried to go and see Innadrue, only to find that Innadrue had been seen leaving the castle as soon darkness had fallen, and would not be back until just before daybreak. He had learnt this from a suspicious looking McGonagall - who he had lied to - claiming he had to speak to Innadrue about some homework. Returning even more disappointed to the common room, Harry had gone straight to bed, where he lay sleeplessly for hours.
And then, there was Hermione. All week, every time he looked at her, she had been watching Harry with a concerned look on her face. She had also reminded Harry several times about her offer to listen should he want to talk.
So, Harry sat pushing his dinner round his plate and feeling distinctly grumpy. Friday's lessons had gone just as badly as the rest of the week's, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be in Innadrue's extra class that evening. Not if he was going to be ignored again. If he could have thought of a way of getting out of it, he wouldn't go – he thought to himself. The problem was, annoyed as he was, and as much as wanted to not want to go... he did want to see the vampire deep down.
"If only Ginny hadn't already told Mum he was a vampire!" Ron complained, drawing Harry out of his thoughts.
It had become a familiar complaint over the last couple of days. Ron had been hoping to get away with just telling his Mum that he needed the permission to go to the new teachers Halloween party – no mentioned of anything odd. It was a plan that had already worked well for Hermione,who - to everyone's surprise - was determined to go. The problem was that Ginny had already written to Mrs. Weasley with general news of the first week back, and unsurprisingly the unique nature of the new appointment had been mentioned.
"There's no way she'll agree now – not a chance." Ron continued to grumble.
"Ron, you just have to ASK her. There's no point complaining about it until you do." Hermione said, tone reasonable but somewhat resigned.
"Yeah, I guess. Even if I do already know the answer... still – the muggles aren't going to let you go, are they Harry? At least we can be miserable together." Ron said, sounding a bit too cheerful about the idea of him missing out for Harry's liking.
"Yeah I suppose we can." Harry agreed blandly.
Innadrue had told him that he would take care of it, but Harry was not sure whether he could trust that or not.
I'll ask him about it tonight. Harry decided. Well, I will if he'll talk to me.
Harry sighed.
"Well, shall we go to class?" he asked his friends.
And then it was off to the catacombs.
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When the class finally made it down to Innadrue's class room, there was a note attached to the door:
Dear class,
Meet me by the ground-keepers hut.
Innadrue
With a great many groans, the Gryffindor's made the long trek back up to the castle, and out into the cold night. As they trudged up to Hagrid's hut, they saw a large bonfire with two figures silhouetted against the flames. The first was tall and slender, the second huge, and unmistakeably that of Hagrid.
"Hurry along my dears." Innadrue called to them.
As they all huddled round the warmth of the fire, the two figures became illuminated. Hagrid was dressed as usual, though seemed far less cheerful than normal. Innadrue, by comparison, was at the most outlandish they had seen him.
His long hair was tied in a strange, oriental style top-knot, held in place with thick strips of black patent leather. His violet eyes were thickly rimmed with Kohl, and full lips painted a blue so dark it was almost black. Covering his arms, he wore long, gauntlet-like gloves - complete with shoulder guards - and made of shiny black PVC. All of it held in placed by straps criss-crossing his chest. Skin tight trousers of the same material covered his thighs, and then disappeared into knee high boots made of some kind of black dragon hide.
"What the hell-" Ron began, before being cut off.
"Mr. Weasley, if you are going to feel the need to comment every time my attire is somewhat unusual, it will become very tedious, very quickly. And if I become bored, I shall become peevish, and if I become peevish, I shall become mean. Quite clear?" Innadrue asked, his tone somewhere between playful and threatening.
Ron closed his mouth, and nodded.
"Excellent, then lets moved on. I thought we'd start off tonight with some simple duelling practice – it'll help me to see what level you are all at, and what areas need work. And as I was tired of being cooped up, I thought we'd come out and enjoy this lovely night. Rubeus here has very graciously agreed to help me supervise tonight, as well as building this lovely fire for me." Innadrue went on, indicating Hagrid with a vague wave.
Hagrid did not look terribly gracious, in fact he looked rather put out, but he smiled at them none the less and gave Harry a brief wink.
"Now, if you'd all pair up – Oh, not you Harry, I'd like you to join me in observing please." Innadrue instructed, beckoning Harry to stand with him. "Simple stunning attacks please, I want to start by studying how well you can defend yourselves."
Leaving Hermione and Ron to partner with each other, Harry walked over to Innadrue's side. He was trying hard to remember that he was annoyed with Innadrue, but despite that he found he had butterflies in his stomach just being near him again.
"Rubeus, be a dear, make sure no one hurts themselves while I speak with Harry a moment." Innadrue ordered, not bothering to look at Hagrid, or wait for a reply. Instead he merely guided Harry, one hand on his shoulder, away from the fire and out of earshot.
"I have wonderful news for you Harry." Innadrue told him, handing him a sheet of paper (though where he had been keeping it in his outfit was a mystery to Harry), and tapping the bottom of the page.
Harry quickly saw the signatures of the Dursley's and realised what he was looking at.
"How the hell did you get this?! It's permission to the party right?!" Harry asked, amazed.
"That... and more. No one should ever sign something with out reading it, Harry." Innadrue grinned. "What you have in your hand Harry, is far more than permission to one little party – I rather think you might want to give it a read. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
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Post story note: Sorry not much happened in this one, hope you still liked it! I intended to take this chapter on longer but, well... puppies etc. Hopefully have the next bit up soon – although the next chapter is a pretty major one in terms of plot, so might take me a little while. Reviews will, of course, help to hurry me along :P